Am I Naked In This Blog? (or am I just too revealing?)

My parents are concerned.

Mom and Dad.

In the 33 years that I have been lucky enough to be around, I have never known them to NOT be concerned. I think that's probably what best makes them the greatest parents I could ask for. It also makes them the most frustrating, but you take the good with the bad.

They probably say the same about me. Definitely more good than bad. Like 95% good, 5% bad. (depending on the day, or who you ask.) I am - to be fair - pretty damn good. I banged the car up once - that they know of - and beyond that, little else trouble came their way from this guy here. I got good grades, I was afraid to party ever in high school (bad kids did that) and I live on my own and have held down a job steadily. What parent could ask for anything more for their kid? Sure, I could have been Vice President or something, but that would only cause more worry from them, and I didn't want to do that.

So, I started a blog instead of joining the 2012 ticket. ("Let Joe Biden have those photo ops instead," I said to no one.)

But when I started the blog, they reacted in different ways. Essentially supportive, (Dad more so than Mom. I think Mom didn't understand the concept of my blog, or the humor of the title at the time.) they seemed to be happy that I was writing again. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was pretty little. I was always writing stories and had a way with words, I guess. I made my own newspapers when I was in grade school out of Disney magazines. Cut and paste. It was an early lesson for when I would be doing storyboards in high school and using spray mount. Spray mount, by the way, is the worst thing to come out of a spray can. The first being Aqua Net hairspray that my sister used growing up.

The point is: I haven't written professionally in 10 odd years or so in any real way. And I have missed it deeply and I kind of locked that truth away about myself. No one who really knows me now as a person had known that my passion is writing. New friends were surprised to know that I even had once been a writer. (It's true. I got paid for it more than once and everything.)

So, as I told my parents the Sunday after I launched this blog, they seemed happy for me for doing something I love. But ... then they read it. They have read the blog. And I did and still do want them to read this blog.

"Yep, I'm Gay," said Ellen Degeneres and also me. Yet, this blog is about 50 billion things other than being gay. I am so much more than "Gay." This blog - well, you should really go back to the first post if you don't understand by now what this blog is all about. (Um, please go back and read. I have reservations now about you.)

The point is: Regardless of what the blog is called, I wanted my parents to understand the blog. I wanted them to get it. AND they got it all right!

"Well, it's just a lot of you, you know?"

"Yes it is. It's kind of the point. The blog is titled "I am so gay... I is in the title. Me. So, yes, it's about me." (By the way - did anyone here me say, "I is in the title?" It's like I am so rough - a real character from the streets, you know? Seriously! Do not mess with me!)

After I kind of, quietly, defended why I am writing about me ("write what you know"), Mom said, "well, can't it be about someone else? Some of your friends? There are a lot of crazies out there."

This was the part of our phone call I loved the most. We laughed a lot during the chat, but I laughed a lot during this part. Her implication and then downright detailed point is: people are nuts and don't let them know who you are!

Ok, here we go! I live in NYC. It's a big city. Lots of people. And we get to see a lot of these people. So, it should be no surprise to anyone that I have had interesting encounters with people in this big city, right? Right.

The best interaction recently may have been when I literally had a person step off a subway train, look right at me, knock the hardcover book I was reading out of my hand and watched it fall onto the subway tracks. It had been an early birthday present to myself. The book, not the crazy man who glared at me and knocked a book out of my possession. It was Mindy Kaling's brand new book, and I went from laughing, and in the next moment to almost crying. Life is like that. Laughs then tears. So, yes, Mom, I know there are some crazies out there.

And if you need further proof, Mom, that I know there are crazies - here is the scene of the crime:

I loved that book, too. Why would someone do this to me? So, I bought the book again. So, Mindy Kaling - enjoy those double book sales. Think of me when you sit on that pile of money. I actually think you are amazing - so literally, Mindy - please think of me when you sit on your pile of money. I would be honored. As would the man from the subway! He would be honored by you thinking of the two of us as you sit on your pile of money. Jeff and I would be honored.

Did I forget to mention that he and I talked after he knocked my book out of my hands deliberately and with hate? It was just one of the classic "how a couple meets" stories that could only happen in the movies. We fell in love and our wedding date will be next Fall. I'm kidding. I would never be married by next Fall. That is too much time wasted. I'm a "no time but the present" kind of dude. Get the good ones before they run off. But, I digress.

Mom and Dad felt that maybe this blog was maybe a little too revealing. I did manage to extract from them during the chat, though, that they did think my writing was funny.  Yes! - they actually laughed out loud when reading my blog. YES! YES! YES! Well, Mom admitted to laughing. I think Dad may have, but reservations were overshadowing the pure joy.

So, it was a good with the bad type of situation. I made my parents laugh (and hopefully you, too. What? Now I have to worry about you, too. Nooooo!!) Oh, the concerns!

And two of my closest friends who, for the sake of anonymity have insisted I use fake names for them. So, my two closest friends - let's say Delilah and Drake. No - that's too real sounding. Let's call them Jill and John. That's more exotic sounding. No way those names could be real. So, Jill and Drake - I mean Jill and John - said they kind of agreed with my parents. And they were shocked I wanted my parents to read this blog.

Now, dear reader, I know I'm "Gay." The blog is oh so comedically titled about that. But, I'm not exactly telling you all about the crazy weird things gays do - such as kiss in the same exact way straight couples do. Nope, I have shied away from such dangerous and threatening topics. I won't even talk about who opens the door at a restaurant.



But, despite reserving these topics for Season 5 of my TV show (when we have lost all direction for the characters and I travel to wild places after winning the lottery), people in my life still had their concerns. Oh, and Delilah and John ...oops, nope Jill and John.... had concerns as well. So, that was 4 - four! - people who had concerns. And, in my life, four people are a lot. It was time to think about this.

So, what did I do? Well, I wrote on the blog naturally. Because I have never been more creative or excited in the past 10 years since college - and it's because of this! Because I am writing and making my parents laugh. Because I'm getting to share my experiences and thoughts with people. I mean, in some sick way, you have to laugh out loud at the thought of some crazy ninja jumping off the downtown F train at Jay Street at the rush hour commute home and going A-YA! and throwing my book against the train car and watching it slide onto the tracks. I mean - who else could that happen to? But me! And I get to share it with the world. Which is kind of awesome. And yes, the man from the subway (who is the sweetest fiancee a girl could hope for) did dress nothing like the Night Rogue Ninja below. But it would have been a better story for me if he had dressed this way on the way home from work. Or maybe if he had just apologized for deliberately knocking the book out of my hand and also for glaring at me afterwards? An apology for doing something deliberate would have been at least a cherry on the sundae of crap he gave to me on that day.



So, my blog followers: I may be too revealing from time to time. Or, in the case of my parents and my two friends, I may be revealing with every ... single ... word ... I ... type.  But, I'm exposing truth, life, and humor, and yes - myself. I like to think there are things we can learn, not just about me, but also how we feel every day.

We need to look at the best of things, not the worst. Yes, someone could look at this blog - this contribution to conversation - and turn it negative. But, who hasn't met that loser at a party who manages to turn something really fun into something ... less fun. (I have been guilty of that myself. Don't you dare tell me you know more about James Bond than me! I will cut you, person I barely know. I've had three drinks and an obsession with a super spy. Just try me!)

So, yes. People could look at this blog and judge. Or write something mean. Or not like me. Or every single one of you could love me. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE. (God, get a room already!) And I hope you do love this blog. I have loved every single minute of this so far. I love making people laugh. I love making myself laugh. And I love writing again best of all.

Hopefully, once I have made billions of dollars (and we all know how lucrative comedy blogging is), my parents' reservations will subside and we can all have a fun chuckle about this. And if not, and my fiancee shows up, angry that I am trying to read again, hopefully we can find a way to laugh about that, too. Because that's what I want us to do. Laugh a little. But, don't ever think you know more about James Bond than me. I think we've proven that little point already. Mwahahaha!

Love,
Me
 

Dating Isn't Pretty -- but I am! (Dating is just ugly!)

I have had some dates recently. Not so great dates. Some would say bad dates. And frankly - it takes a toll on a person. After years of being single, let me tell you - dating sucks. So, my friends - if you have someone - hold on for dear life. I mean "iron grip" him or her. Hang on tight. Make them almost afraid by your recent love and attention! Because it is just scary out there.

Allow me to say it more pointedly: 

Dating is hard. Dating is awkward. Dating ... is ... ugly. 

So - to all the men out there (and maybe some ladies, too) - I have some tips for you. Important tips. FOLLOW these tips. This is not only respectful, but essential to getting me in your corner, which at the end of every date, you want. You don't want me to root for the other team. And friends, I have been rooting for the visiting team lately. Go, visitors go! Because (to my date) I want you to go! AWAY!

But, back on point, here are just some recent thoughts on dating etiquette. Not the final list, but this will be a good start for you rookies. Are you ready, players? Here we go:

1. Don't bring up your ex on the date. Classic, super-important rule. A rule. Mandatory. A MUST. Am I clear? Nope? Ok - First date, second date, etc. The ex file should be AVOIDED. You may want to discuss this. Someone may even ask. Someone may want to know. Something on the menu or something in the conversation may remind you about that person. But - whatever you do - (in Samuel L. Jackson voice) don't bring up your Motherlovin' ex on this motherlovin' date. (I think Samuel L. Jackson uses the word "Motherlovin" a lot, right? No? Oops.)



Honestly, I don't want to know about your ex yet!  I don't even know about you yet! Let me know all about you first, ok? What makes you think I want to know about the other guy? It clearly didn't end in a happily ever after. The story won't make me go... "aww! That is so cute. You guys are so great! I am so jealous."

The fact is: the past is the past, right? Nope. You are still living in the past - and this is a red flag. And if it's not a red flag to you - well, that's a double red flag. And that brings me to my second point.

2. Don't show me pictures of your ex's dog. And yes - this happened to me recently! It was a black lab. It was a nice looking dog, and I do like dogs actually. But - again - this is in your past. You don't live with the dog anymore. The dog isn't your child, who I will possibly need to stepfather if we were to get married. Nope, it's a dog. A cute dog. Who isn't in your life anymore and ...  still lives in North Carolina! Yup....North Carolina! Again, this is true and did, in fact, happen to me. Scary, right? Are you clinging onto your partner as you read this? Well, you should be. (Yoda voice.) You...should...be....

3. Please: do not text me an hour before the date. I even said PLEASE! Seriously, unless you are texting to say, "running 10 minutes late" or "I am just around the block," then do not text. Because a text before the date - the day of the date - is bad. Nothing good comes from it. You are usually bailing or trying to change the plan. And that just isn't fun. And dates should be fun! Plans need to be finalized 24 hours in advance. No backing out. Sorry! And... this brings me to my fourth point.

4. Enough with the frakin' texts! Hearing someone's voice is just nicer. I am nice on the phone - funny even. And, as much as I like to write, I kind of hate texts. So use a Pop phone like the one below, and it will be more fun for you to call me, instead of texting me!



Because translation gets lost in a text. You cannot tell tone, emotion, feeling, intention, and spelling in a text. You often write the wrong word in a text accidentally. Did, if spelled incorrectly, becomes dud. Just yesterday, I asked my friend if she wanted to go to Cindy Island. Now, there is no Cindy Island in NYC. But, there is a Coney Island. Thanks Autocorrect!

But, the bigger issue is: YOU USE TEXTS AS A PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE WAY OF SEEING WHAT SOMEONE IS UP TO!!!! Just ask me out. Don't ask - "Wht r u up to?" It's annoying. You can't even spell the word WHAT! So, I sincerely doubt you will be getting off your lazy butt to meet me for dinner. Ugh. I digress. So here's my number. Call me maybe?  (wink!)

5. If you know I don't like smoking, maybe don't smoke on our date. Just sayin.' Because you won't be gettin' any kissin.' Just sayin.'

6. Don't insult me. It's seriously not fun. I know I am no model. Calling me essentially unattractive.... well.... now at least the little secret of how YOU feel is out of the bag!!!! Now, allow me to tell you how I feel about you!!! (Smiles through teeth!)

I actually had a guy 2 weeks ago say - "Wow! You have big feet!" Thanks Captain Awkward!! And yes, this is the same guy who's ex's dog is so damn memorable!

For the record, I have size 11 feet and I'm 5'8. While not small by any means, I wouldn't say Japanese businessmen run screaming away from me on the street, shouting "Godzilla! Godzilla! Noooooo!!!"

The foot size remark was one of the more minor insults I have suffered lately. One of the more recent brutal ones was: "Your longest relationship hasn't been that long." This was after he referenced that his ex and he were together for 5 years. Yup - he brought up the ex. He didn't read the blog! So, he was implying that I am some single freak and he is Mr. Relationship. He was deliberately trying to get in a dig at me and it didn't work to woo me. It hurt, actually, but I persevere. Why? Because screw you if you insult me! 

Yup, I'm single. But I know good manners. And that has gotten men in my corner. Yup, they haven't stayed in my corner for 5 years. But, you're single now just like I am - so it ain't like your Mr. Perfect either.

I think if we all just treat each other just a little bit better, things could be more fun. Be considerate.

The takeaways - simple:
- Call. Don't text.
- Don't discuss your ex.
- Don't discuss your ex.
- Don't discus your ex's dog.
- Don't discuss your ex.
And....be nice to me!

And I will be nice to you. And if you're good, I will be very nice to you. How? You won't end up in the blog! Because you played by the rules. Now, it's time for our half-time show!

Love,
Me

No One Puts Baby In A Corner (and dares to discuss how the baby got there)

It's true.

You don't want to think about your parents in any way other than the following:
- people who give you presents
- people who would do anything for you
- people who annoy the (bleep) out of you
- people who worry about you non stop
- people who will always think your birthday is one of the greatest days ever
- people who love you so much

That's how I like to think of my parents. They love me, I love them. They drive me CAR-AZEE.

My Dad and Mom always call me around 8:23 a.m. on May 4. It was the time I was born. This happens every year. Like clockwork. And, in life, it's been one of the only consistent things I have ever been able to count on. And I love it.

I know the story of my birth so well. I was supposed to be born on April 19th. I was late. Really late. And Mom was fat. Really fat. So fat that she had to hold her stomach up when she went for a walk around the block. "Your Mama is so fat..." And she was. This is all true stuff, folks.

But, you guessed it, the day after that walk, she went into labor.... right after waving my father drive away on his way to work. His car pulled out of the driveway, and - with my eternal sense of perfect timing - I had evidently come to the conclusion, "yup....it's a Friday. Let's get this weekend started!" And that is what all babies think when they decide to break water. Babies are notorious party fiends.

But, I digress. Mom immediately called Dad's work, they sent him right back home, Dad got Mom and me to the hospital, and within 30 minutes of being at the hospital I was born. All told, I think the whole labor was an hour. (Once my Dad parked the car, they threw scrubs at my Dad's face, and said, "if you want to see your baby being born, get in.")

And I was fat ... just like my Mama was. 8 lbs., 8 ounces. Everyone can agree, though, I was a cute little tiger.

This was me. Not the day of my birth. But you get the point. I was and still am - adorable. And yes, I still like watermelon with the hunger of a shark on "Shark Week."

And if you like Big Bird, just as much as I did as a baby:



Anyways, I can't help but always (happily) think of my parents on my birthday. It's just as much as their day, as it is mine.

And here's where my story goes from heartwarming to dark comedy! And by dark comedy... I mean frightening.

My father called me on my birthday, but I inexplicably missed his call. I saw the missed call on my iPhone and was sad. He called earlier than 8:23. He was at work and it was the only time he could call, and I missed it. I got to talk to Mom at 8:23, but without Dad - it wasn't the same.

Dad, Mom and I talk every Sunday morning, though (also like clockwork.) So, on Sunday May 6th, Dad and I talked. And toward the end of the conversation, Dad got funny.

"You know... if you do the math from your birthday.... don't you know who's birthday that would be???"

He outright implies that his birthday was 9 months after HIS birthday.

Sheer panic arises. Horrified, by having to do actual math, and horrified, by the implication, I quickly showed my wit and as you remember, dear reader, I was supposed to be an April 19th baby- which would only have been 7 months from his September 20th birthday.

And thank God for all of that. Math and the fact that I was a supposed to be a April bundle of joy. Hooray. They had sex in July. And yes I just cheered for sex (who hasn't?) After all, the normal thought process is: sex did lead to my being on this earth. So yay for sex!

Relief washed over me, though, I have to say. Dad, however, liked his little joke and chuckled a bit.

I, on the other hand, did not laugh. Just relieved. Simply, quietly relieved. Because no one wants to be thought of their parent's birthday present!

Love,
Me

I Became 33 Alone (and I survived .... and I had a blast for every single second)

I spent roughly 24 hrs alone around my birthday. And I loved it. I actually loved it.

I didn't know what to do for my Jesus birthday. That was my birthday - May 4, 2012 . My Jesus birthday. I was turning thirrrr-teeee threeeeee. And I wasn't exactly jumping up and down for it. 33 sounded old..er... Older. I was older.... Again. Older again.

I am and was single. Single and older. Single and 33.

So I was stumped. I liked 32.

32 was decent.
32 seemed young, but 33 seemed older.

You have to laugh about the things you do to yourself. And the road blocks you create. We all likely have that secret number birthday we have dreaded. Mine was 28. And also... 30. 30 seemed rough. But, both seem super fun in hindsight. At the time, I was like 28 - oh no! God! 28? Bring it!

And yet, 33 was a road block for me. I had to find a detour to 33 that made me feel great about a birthday number that I didn't like. The truth was: I needed to feel great not just about 33....but about 33 and alone.

I didn't have anyone planning my birthday for me and that was the actual present I wanted that year. I wanted something planned for me. And I had no one to do it. Husbands do it. Boyfriends have to do it if they plan on getting any birthday sex out of you (which is really the best sex- right behind dirty vacation sex. Vacation sex is just the best.) But I digress.

So, after a bit of planning on my own.... I landed on the Mets. Yep. Baseball. Because straight men, tight pants, overpriced booze and bad food is what I love. I know! But love just happens and you can't help what you love. And I had never been to the Mets. It was on my bucket list of NYC things to do before I one day blow this town. (Not literally.)

(Although, that would be something for the Guinness Book of Records now - wouldn't it?)

So, yes: The Mets. And, thanks to my close, personal friend Mark Zuckerberg, I was able to amass a group of my friends from Facebook who were interested in partaking in America's Pastime (more commonly known as "Get Greg Drunk." For centuries, "Gregs" all over the world have been drunk. Not surprisingly, many casualties result.)

The weather forecast for the game initially called for sun, but yep - you guessed it...as the day came...40% chance of rain. I am a risk taker in some small aspects of my money (a cheap tee shirt at Joe Fresh? Ok!) But forking over $200 for everyone's tickets and risking rain in a town with unpredictable weather??? NO DEAL!!! So, I chose a local bar in Williamsburg I had always wanted to go that also had skee ball. And Skee ball just fraking rocks! I am big lover of the skee. (You are learning so much about me!)

But what to do before seeing all my friends later around 7 pm on May 4? I had a whole day off from work and it was a Friday and Fridays are just the best day to not be working. Oh, did I fail to mention that I always take off from work on my birthday? Well, yup - I do. Always. (If work obliges.) And let me tell you - besides reading my blog several times a week, showering daily, and learning how to flirt well - NOT working the day of your birth will the be the smartest thing you ever do.

So, I decided belatedly to treat myself. It was T minus 2 weeks until 33 banged on my door. And I had to answer that call sadly. So how do I bust that door down? Well, you guessed it.... Broadway. I am gay. So I went to my home. The...Theater.


I NEVER go to Broadway or shows, and  - believe it or not - that's an actual crime in New York City. I served 5-7 at Rikers for not seeing 1 play a year. And the Rikers Players' Community Theater is just so poorly funded. So, I learned my lesson when I busted out and decided to see the best of the best. It was my birthday and I "survived" prison after all. So, I threw down an obscene amount of money for something I really wanted. Which, beside reading my blog, using deodorant, and learning how to kiss insanely well, is also the BEST possible thing you could ever do FOR yourself. Splurge once. Occasionally. Because as I learned in the Summer of 2006 - which was when I moved to NYC - if you don't treat yourself, no else fucking will. And that's the fucking truth. Fuck. (Soap washing my mouth as we speak.... thanks Mom!)

And I'm back. So. what was the play I wanted to see? THE BOOK OF MORMON. Much like this blog that I finally started, and the red shoes I wanted from online, The BOOK OF MORMON was something I really, really, really wanted for a very long period of time. And it seemed so impossible. There is a lottery to try to get tickets. Tickets can be like $300. You have to sleep with 10 guys named Joey, and walk through a circle of fire. But, I chose the easier way. 2 weeks before my birthday, I woke up early on a Sunday and walked to the theater, and stood in line at 11 am at the ticket booth. I stated my desired dates, told the 65 year old ticket lady that it was my birthday - and this was all I ever wanted. It helps to seem like the bright eyed new girl in town when you really want something.  And  bam - she got me in for the night before my bday - May 3rd - in a partially obstructed view (which was actually not obstructed - just really high). And I went alone.

But not so alone, that I didn't get to meet THE STAR. AND TAKE A PICTURE WITH HIM.
AND GET HIS AUTOGRAPH. AND SLEEP WITH HIM. I'm kidding. I didn't sleep with him. (That he knows of. Wink!)

But here's the picture with me and the star Andrew. Beautiful and talented. Tony nominated. And Andrew isn't too shabby either!

Since I was alone, I had to trust and then BEG the security guy, who for the purpose of this web site I shall call Salvatore, to take my iPhone and snap a picture. Salvatore was all thumbs. Literally! His thumbs were HUGE, and he cut me out of most of the picture. But he got most of me. I was there. I didn't shove some blonde chick out of the way to get the picture (shoving a blonde chick is mean and it's far better to kick them for having better hair than me.)

Well, Salvatore,  thanks for not stealing my iPhone and thank you for making my pre-game birthday awesome. I may have been alone. But I made some memories.

And.... I LOVED IT. It was date night with myself.

And I continued the date the next day.

A morning run. Just... like 2 miles, because I wanted to feel the runner's high but not go crazy with myself.

Parks and Recreation on Netflix over a homemade breakfast. (Watching - what else? The Parker Posey Episode with Ron Swanson's Birthday. LOVE!!)

Facial at Dermalogica Spa.

Shopping in Chelsea and Flatiron. I got a free gift from Sephora. Thanks Birthday Club!

Lunch at Almond - pre-fixe! And yes, the waiter did flirt with me. And yes, the waiter did bring me a second complimentary glass of wine. And yes, he did bring me a free chocolate mousse too. And yes, I did tip him well, because he was great but also HOT DAMN - I was grinning silly after a facial and 2 glasses of great wine and seafood.

Then, I went and finally saw Mr. Guggenheim. A museum I had always dreamt of seeing. Because it is absolutely a wonder to walk around a building that twists and turns and goes up and up. And no view is the same as you walk inside and look around. It is a wonder. A gem. And the art is decent, too! But, for me, it was all about Mr. Guggenheim. Worth the money and romantic in all the ways I need to be fed. I had never been and always wanted to. So, one bucket list NYC thing was checked off the list.



It was a romantic, fun, carefree day with myself. I was on a high. An absolute state of euphoria. I kicked 33's sweet little ass (more vulgarity, more soap.) But it's true. Shopping, exercise, booze, culture, sight-seeing, celeb sighting, pampering and WOW! I was so happy with myself and this little special day I made for myself.

By the time I met my group of girls at Full Circle Bar, I realized once again....I was never alone. You're only alone if you feel alone and because I had myself, and loved every minute, I was never alone. I was with my best friend. I was with my soul mate, my confidant, and the person who knows how to make me happy.

And I was happy. Grinning ear to ear happy. (And my ears are quite big!)

It took me years and years, and it wasn't until I was 30 years old before I learned this. And I had forgotten it at a very critical time, when I needed myself the most. It's hard to be single, it's hard to be alone - for so many reasons. But if you love yourself, really love yourself, and enjoy every peaceful single moment - you're never alone. I saw and thought of things that reminded me of friends (an ad on a building for Dark Shadows made me think of Jill, for example) And sure - if I had been with anyone during these 24 hours, would I have had a blast? Of course. But I had a blast all the same. All by myself.

And that was just fine by me.

Love,
Me

I love to shop! (Gay cliche? Maybe. Who cares?! I love to shop!)

For anyone who knows me, and for those that don't - I absolutely love to online shop. (Within reason. No credit card debt allowed.)

But I really do love it. So much so, that allow me to refer you to this web site:
http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=M5W50P93x%2FIypJry1Er1Xg%3D%3D

I actually found a web site that pays me to online shop.

I felt like the villain in a Bond movie when I discovered this. (Diabolical laughter!)

They give me money to shop? I found Superman's Kryptonite??? I will get him for good now!

Yep! But - it's the real deal! Awesome web site!

Seriously, Ebates.com is my most favorite web site ever. And its the first site I go to when I online shop. Simply - go to the site. Sign up for an account today. Search a store you like to shop at, and then click on the link to that store. BAM. Automatic savings to your account once you have bought something, and they mail you a check every quarter. I use it. It works. Trust.

And if you need further proof of how trustworthy, I am....see below picture:

As you see above, not only am I a fashion model, (photo shoots!), but I am also a fashion icon. Now, the weight of this is something I take very seriously.

When I carefully choose what to buy, I always ask 3 things:
1. is this on sale?
2. is this the absolute cheapest I can get this for?
3. will this look good on me?
4. is this something I really, really, really want and/or need and I won't get sick of?

Ok, so that's 4 things. No one ever said fashion icons were smart.

But I AM smart! Why am I? Because I make sure I research the hell out of something online. I use all kinds of web sites to help me online shop. Bizrate.com can often tell you how the item you want is priced across the board. Now, if what you want is actually a pair of shoes that is sold everywhere, or a book - this is super helpful. So, are iPhone apps for this. (i.e. The Find, ShopSavvy, Red Laser and I also like the Amazon price check app.) Simply scan the bar code when you're in a store - and you can price compare within seconds. This has saved me some dollars. And dollars add up. Dollars add up to let me shop more. Which. I. Love. (if you didn't get the hint)




In general, I do like Amazon. Convenient shipping and usually they price cut pretty well. But that is always a base. Never just 1 click, unless pressed for time and you need that book delivered in 48 hours before your friend learns you lost her copy.  (What? It's a hypothetical! Damn it, woman, I am not talking about you. I got your book. Now, where the hell is it?)

I digress. Shop around, I always say. If time is on your side, think like the Suze Orman we all are. I am no lesbian, but I like to save money. And if saving money makes me a lesbian. Well, Suze, you got yourself a date. Because I will kiss you on the lips.

Now, back on topic. I love to shop. Because white jeans and a nautical stripe shirt is not only on trend, but it's what we ALL should wear when you go to the beach in the Spring in Long Island. Because it's cold. If you wear a swim suit, well - God bless. It's windy and cold. You clearly need to shop if you are disagreeing with me. Please stop disagreeing with me or we can never be shopping buddies. Oh, who am I kidding? We will sooo be shopping buddies.

The thing is: I hate crowds. And if I had a car, I'd hate parking.

Having said all of that - I will put up with crowds for a good outlet mall. (I frakkin' love a good outlet mall!!!!! J. Crew Factory Store? Pottery Barn outlet? Things I don't need? YES!)

But, at the end of the day, I really dislike crowds. And in New... York... City (said in the same voice as the Pace Salsa commercial), there are a lot of crowds. Plus, I have to hop on the subway. Lug the stuff down the street, and home, and ugh...I'm sweating. Through my new tee shirt. And sweat is unacceptable unless doing something....recreational.... so.... no, I don't shop in stores much. Sorry, real estate barons and mega malls. I like the visuals of a store. But, the experience of getting there and hustle/bustle? No thanks.

So, yup - I buy my deodorant from Drugstore.com (Hands down - cheaper than the store - by literally dollars. By 2, save $1. Shocking!)

I buy my latest book to read from Betterworldbooks.com or Barnesandnoble.com or Amazon.com (Shop around. Get prices. What? Did you not learn from me yet? Wink!)

I buy my shoes from Overstock.com. Or Endless.com. Or Piperlime.com. I am pretty anti-Zappos. They are awesome and ship amazing - but come on. Discount me a little? 10% off? Something! A girl likes a discount.



For clothes: well, that's tougher. That brings me stores. I gotta know how it fits me. But once I do....I'm back to the laptop, my pretties. (Suze Orman. Back again. Or Kristen Wiig. Yea....totally Kristen Wiig.)

I hope you can relate and obsess like I do. We have to help the economy. Times are tough. So, we have to look good. More importantly, times are tough and I'm not going into debt. So, look around, keep those dreamy eyes of yours open, and focused on the bargains. (You have really amazing eyes, by the way.)

You will get some bargains. And if you do, send that extra cash my way. I am really itching to buy the new Herb Ritts LA book from his show at the Getty. It's literally like $15 cheaper on Amazon than if I had bought it there. Score!)

And most importantly, I know this was a pretty vapid post on valley girl shopping, but really, I think we all learned something. And that is: we are no fool, fool. Hopefully, I either inspired you to be smarter (then even me!) when thinking over a purchase or inspired you to shop online. (Or check out Ebates.com. http://www.ebates.com/rf.do?referrerid=M5W50P93x%2FIypJry1Er1Xg%3D%3D
It's amazing! Clearly, I am obsessed.)

Most importantly, maybe you just got a smile (laugh out loud - "who the hell is this guy thinking he is?" moment) out of the photo of me being Marilyn Monroe on a beach in Long Island. It's a pretty ridiculous picture and yet I like it.

I need a nap now. Being an icon is tough work.

Yours forever,
Sir Shopsalot

I Like My Body (and I don't care if you gay bee-itches don't!)

So, yes, I like my body. And nope - I don't have a 14 pack of abs under this awesome purple tank top. (See picture) Yep. That's me. Smiling, athletic and - in awesome wayfarers sunglasses! (I love wayfarers at the moment. They make me look like a better Risky Business era Tom Cruise. And the 80s are back. But I digress.)



The point is: I look great. Honest, right? It's refreshing.

I look great probably because I feel great. I am a runner. This picture was taken during the San Diego Rock and Roll Half Marathon that I did for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society just a few weeks ago. June 3rd, 2012. It was at mile 3 - which when I run - is when I feel undeniably fantastic. Mile 1 is an easy, light feeling. The kind of joy one can only put into words as "look at me!!" Mile 2 is kind of a ---- why.... is my body moving like this... kind of feeling So, mile 3 is that return to - oh yeah - I like this. Henceforth, (big word) I like this picture a lot.

I like it even more because  - man - look at those muscles! And my god, my calves are amazing. If I were gay, I would do me. Oh wait! Well, if I were another gay man, I would do me, too. Basically, lots of doing would happen.

The non-egotistical point is: it took me years and years to feel this way about myself. A really long time. Growing up in high school, I was a bit of a nerd, a school newspaper junkie, and was terrible at gym class in so many ways. I continued that profession through college. It was safe, but the Freshman Forty pound weight gain, wasn't so safe. I hated myself especially in college. It's easily the four years of my life I wouldn't want to go back to, despite the few great friends I made and some of the amazing experiences I had. (This wasn't just because of my appearance, but also being deeply in the closet. These issues really go hand in hand. The weight gain, the feeling of being excluded, not part of anyone's world, scared of rejection, wanting to be yourself and afraid of hate from everyone. It was all a reason to eat Ben and Jerry's and not like yourself further.)




Coming back from that low point of despair was, in part, due to running. It gave me a confidence I never knew I could have. It became something I was actually good at. And by saying this, I know I'm not Ryan Hall and if you don't know him - you should. But if you don't know him, I will give you a reference you can understand. By saying I'm good at running, it means you're pretty good at brushing your teeth. Hopefully, brushing your teeth is something that is natural feeling and healthy to your body and mind and how you like to start your day and end your day. As I like the feeling of running at both times of the day and I often brush my teeth right before I run, this analogy makes sense on so many levels, right????

So, back to my HOT body. Yup, I have a hot body. Did I mention my legs? Because seriously, my legs rock. Everyone says so! I wear shorts to run most of the year (Because when its 80 degrees, you should still run in shorts. A speedo is not an acceptable option.) I even wear shorts to work. I roll them up to show off even more of my sexy legs, and especially that upper leg action. (yea, I even said sexy! dirty word!) I then complete the look with suede oxford shoes.

And - Yes!!! I can style you daily before you go to work also! Rates are negotiable!


Now, gay men all seem nice and friendly to all the straight women of the world. And they are! But oddly enough, to their sexual preference - the other gay males - they are cattiest, most judgmental group of Bee-itches! And they have called me FAT.

TO. MY. FACE......  and also.... IN. WRITING.

Am I fat? No.
Am I obese? No.
Am I unhealthy? (Despite my love of chocolate and coffee?) No.
Do I eat fast food? (as in chain restaurants?) No.

Do I exercise 4-5x a week at least? YES!
Do I try to eat balanced meals and add veggies or fruit or protein and goodness? You bet!
Do I drink my weight in wine? Well, now, let's not make any judgments, ok?

The point is: I work my butt off within reason to try to live to be a billion years old. Will I succeed? Nope, but neither will you - you failed excuse for an Abercrombie model! Oh I kid. You didn't even try to be a model.

For every one person who thinks I'm unattractive, literally - almost instantly - I've talked to someone who genuinely compliments my appearance. I know what I got, too. I'm not the current form of advertising beauty. But, I have a nice smile, a cute face that my mother loves, and literally several others do as well! I have the arms of a champion hugger. (Comment below if you like my hugs. No seriously - DO IT NOW!). And best of all!!! - I have the legs of a runner.



I may not have chiseled abs, rock hard chest, but I have a body that in its 33 years - I love. I cherish. I embrace it. Because let's be honest, my friends. Even if you are a muscle gym god at this very moment, your shit is going to get bad. Not today, but soon. This is the mountaintop in your 30s, and soon, its going to go back down the mountain. So - enjoy your time at the top - if you are like me. Even if you're not. Look at it today and like it. Sure - things could be better. But they aren't worse and they could be. It always could be worse. Always.

The fact is - eventually - you're gonna wrinkle - even more than today.
Your stuff is going to droop - even further.
Unless you're 18.... it is all a matter of time of when it's going to get worse. And if I haven't reinforced this point - it will get worse.

So, if you're healthy - treasure it. Hello?? This is the best time of your life!! No doubt. You can breathe the air, and it feels great. No pain. I can put on sneakers and run 5 miles - like I did this morning (which - side note - was awesome!!! I did 4.83 miles in 41 minutes and 39 seconds, which was my fastest run probably ever. I did an 8:37 minute mile pace. That is good! And if you're faster than me - shut up. And if you're slower than me - thank you!!!)

I have given all of this some very serious thought. And I've said it out loud. This is possibly the best I will ever look. So, I have to enjoy this time. If I don't...I will regret it. And who wants that? I'm still young and looking and feeling good.

Let's go do Greg! Hopefully you will feel the same way about yourself.
And if you're gay...call me! Because... I like my body and you should too!

Love,
Me

I Am So Gay.... My First Gay Post!

I am so gay.

Like..... soooooooo gay. So ... very ... gay.

I'm gayer than your gayest uncle ever!!! Well, maybe not. But you get my point.

And that is ...  kind of ... the point to my blog. No, it's not to tell you about some random gay guy (or is it?) but it's really about my big ol' gay life in the city.

I am a 33 year old single gay male in NYC. I work. I run. I drink.  Cliche?  You bet.

In response to the been there-done that factor of yet another gay male blog, I have already anticipated your questions!

"Will this be like an episode of Will and Grace?" Sure! It's nothing like that and more!



"Do you live somewhere trendy in the city, like Soho?" I actually do. I am in the ultra hip Brooklyn (yep! So cool, I know) neighborhood of Kensington. It's regal. It's like a British colony that never existed. Or - if you map my apartment back to the nearest public library, I may live in Windsor Terrace. I live somewhere so cool - I have no idea where I live. It's that awesome, I know! What can I say? I got lucky!

"Are you always at some hot new club or spot in the city?" If you count a Netflix date alone with wine, then yes! (Netflix is not a official paid sponsor ... yet) To be completely honest, as you will learn, I actually don't really club it up, so that will probably make me lose a 1,000 gay points to you, huh? But, I work in the fashion industry - so HA! That just got me a million gay points back on the scorecard. Am I right, friend?

So, here's the deal. I have all kinds of interactions in this city and beyond - and most of them are funny. (Dating, especially!)

And some of them are sad. (Dating, especially!)

But that's pretty much the point of life. Man! There are going to be some funny, freaking great parts to life. But just when you're waking up, having coffee, starting your day, feeling great, you realize - oh, it's raining. Well, life is like that. It's all sunny and then - bam, some clouds.




I have to say - as growing up repressed and afraid of my sexuality, afraid of living life in many ways, it has been a journey of a lot of sun and then some clouds. And sometimes.... there have been a lot of clouds. But, the most important thing I have maintained throughout was to laugh. I found the humor in all of it. I'm not really sure who in my family passed down the funny bone into my DNA, but thank you, deranged alcoholic relative. (I kid - none of my relatives are actually deranged.... odd, crazy maybe, but...I digress).

So, there's humor even with my title, my mission statement here, and how I present myself to the world. This is about embracing life. Taking trips I always wanted to take. Having an adventure. Ordering something crazy bad for you at a meal. Wearing red shoes and short shorts to work (which I do and I look aaaa-maze-ing!) Because humor and being honest is ultimately freeing. I made a decision around my 30th birthday that this was my life, not yours, not hers, not his - it's mine, suckas! (Samuel L. Jackson voice) So, I'm going to live this life my way and I'm gonna get all these damn snakes off this damn plane!!!

The point to this blog: You are going to hear quite a few stories about me.  I'm Greg. And I'm so gay. So, grab some alcohol as I always do (where are the straws for this wine bottle?), a hot guy, some glo sticks, or whatever you wear when you cozy up to your computer (What? You don't bring glo sticks? Oh I guess you're really fancy and use a lamp! How lofty of you!)

But don't forget - I am sooooo gay. And now so are you for reading this.

Love,
Me